Page 89 of I Will Break You
This time, I don’t argue. Parting my thighs wide, I run the toy over my wet folds, trying to gather enough moisture to ease the slide.
Just as I’m about to penetrate myself with the toy, Xero raises a finger. “Wait.”
“What for?”
He reaches into the depths of his cloak and pulls out a metal pole. It’s about two feet long, with each end sharpening into spikes.
My stomach drops, and I glance at BJ’s frozen face on the screen. Xero can’t want me to impale myself to death.
When he drives the metal stake into the floorboards, I shriek.
“Let’s play a game. Your first choice is to ride the spike or the toy.”
I’d rather ride away to the sunset, but I doubt that’s an option.
“The toy,” I rasp.
“Toss it,” he says.
My breath quickens, and sweat beads across my brow. “Shouldn’t I hold on to it?”
“Then ride the spike.”
“No!” I shriek and hurl the dildo across the room, hoping he’ll ripple like a reflection in the water. Maybe even splinter into a million pieces and never return.
He catches the silicone toy and places it on top of the spike.
“What are you going to do?” I whisper.
He steps back. “Ride.”
I gulp. “You want me to fuck that thing standing up?”
“Do it for Myra,” he replies with a sneer.
He’s right. All this procrastinating will only get my best friend hurt. I place a damp palm on the wall and ease myself up to standing, but even that requires every ounce of willpower and strength. On trembling legs, I walk to the center of the room, where he’s left the stake through the floorboards.
Xero watches from the shadows, his huge body a sinister outline in the dark. If I keep my head turned, I can almost imagine he doesn’t exist.
Picturing myself making him a sex tape, I walk to the pole, squat over the dildo, and turn my gaze to the phone I left on the floor.
I lower my body and shiver as its blunt tip grazes my folds. There’s a part of me that wonders what the hell I’m doing, trying to fuck a sex toy attached to a metal spike driven into the floorboards, when I’ve never once been on top.
In fact, I’m so dreadfully sexually inexperienced.
Mr. Lawson made me think I was sophisticated and edgy, when I was really young, naïve, and elated that a man of his caliber had paid me attention. Looking back, I realize sex with him was mediocre.
We fucked over his desk, against walls, in closets, and in the girls’ locker rooms, but I don’t remember ever orgasming from penetration. At least, not until the day he took me to his apartment and laced my food with the abortion pill.
The bastard went down on me, and I was so bedazzled from the orgasm that I ate a poisoned cupcake, thinking I was in the pinnacle of love.
Why the hell am I thinking about him? Because once again, I’ve blundered into an inappropriate predicament.
“Move,” Xero growls.
He’s right. Now isn’t the time to dwell on the past. Mr. Lawson stole my innocence, and in return for killing our baby, I took his life. If I survive the night, then I’ll need to banish Xero back to Hell. Inhaling a deep breath, I place a palm against the wall, push past the fear, and position the dildo’s cool tip at my entrance.
“That’s right,” he says, his voice a low growl that bristles with raw power. “Fuck me like you mean it. Give me a show to remember, my little ghost.”